


The Great Glitter Heist of 221B: The Gang Rides Again!

by Ewebie



Series: Tumblr Shorts [8]
Category: Great Glitter Gang Heist, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ... also... cats, It doesn't even make sense... if you think about it too hard... don't think about it., M/M, Now we're gonna try!, The great glitter heist of 221B, There is no excuse for how crack this is..., This time it is a heist, We all threaten to steal it..., We all want the ShSpesh, the crackiest of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4578600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/pseuds/Ewebie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look... There is literally no excuse for this. It is just 100% ridiculousness. For a SECOND ROUND of this ridiculousness. But like... There's glitter and B&E and alcohol and Kevin the intern. Why WOULDN'T you read this.</p><p>  <i> “E,” she started again. “They want the Special. The ShSpesh. The Christmas Special. They want it. And we’re gonna get it.”</i><br/><i>I splashed some milk into the instant coffee and sat at the table, staring at my mug. “So… We’re talking about the ShSpesh, the Victorian one? The one that doesn’t have an airdate?”</i><br/><i>“Yes.”</i><br/><i>“And… They want it?”</i><br/><i>“Yes.”</i><br/><i>“Who’s they?”</i><br/><i>“EVERYONE!” Jam laughed. “And we’re gonna leak it.”</i><br/><i> “We?”</i><br/><i> “E, come on now. You know what we managed last time. We’ve got this.”</i><br/><i> I chewed on my lower lip. “Everyone’s in?”</i><br/><i> “We’re just waiting on you.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Glitter Heist of 221B: The Gang Rides Again!

**Author's Note:**

> I am so so sorry... Just... I apologize.

I yawned and stretched, scratching at my scalp before cracking my neck. Nights were getting old. I didn’t think I’d actually miss the shifts at the surgery, but a few weeks doing the unsocial hours in the A&E was enough to make me yearn for sniffling noses and stubbed toes. When my mobile rang at half six in the morning, I was only marginally surprised to see Jam’s name on the screen. I knew she commuted into work at an ungodly hour, but calling at this pre dawn time... Then again, I was winding down on ten hours of work, so who was I to talk? And in the lull before the morning rush of sickies, I was happy enough to answer.

“M’lo?”

“E,” Jam was whispering. She was whispering into her phone. “This is really important. Are you alone right now.”

I glanced around the department. I was one of about ten people in the room. Two kids and their parents, my CNM, my SHO, two other nurses, the house staff was starting to clean… “Sure,” I lied.

“Liar.”

I laughed. “No one can hear your end of the line. It’s fine. And no one cares. It’s like arsehole o’clock right now.”

“Right. Look. So.” She paused. “There’s the thing. But. So. This…”

“Jam, breathe first, think second, then speak. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

She laughed. “They want the special.”

“Who wants what special?”

“SHUSH!”

I winced and pulled the phone away from my ear. “Jam, c’mon. I’m wrecked here and I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

“They, _they_ they. They want THE special.”

I furrowed my brow and tried to figure out what was happening. It was too early for this. Or too late. It was too something. I needed coffee. “I’m making some coffee. Please try to use words I understand in the next two minutes until I get the appropriate level of caffeine into me.”

“Jings crivvens and help ma boab!”

I cringed as the door to the small break room closed behind me. “Jam… It’s too early. I’ve absolutely no idea what you just said.”

“E,” she started again. “They want the Special. The ShSpesh. The Christmas Special. They want it. And we’re gonna get it.”

I splashed some milk into the instant coffee and sat at the table, staring at my mug. “So… We’re talking about the ShSpesh, the Victorian one? The one that doesn’t have an airdate?”

“Yes.”

“And… They want it?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s they?”

“EVERYONE!” Jam laughed. “And we’re gonna leak it.”

“We?”

“E, come on now. You know what we managed last time. We’ve got this.”

I chewed on my lower lip. “Everyone’s in?”

“We’re just waiting on you.”

“When?”

“When do you have a weekend?”

“Ten days.”

“Then we do it in ten days.”

I nodded slowly. Clearly I was so far beyond sleep deprived. “Where?”

“Cardiff. BBC.”

“Jam, no.”

“Jam, Yes!”

“Jam… You… This is like a rather well staffed, secured building. And it’s not like I can just filch the keys for the door while I’m at work. You do understand that, yeah?”

“Aye.”

“So… You, know… Just that we’re clear.”

“Crystal.”

I sighed. I mean, we wouldn’t actually… It’s not like we’d be able to… “Fine. I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

Jam laughed.

~

Ten days later I woke to the blaring of a large vehicular horn. It was literally right outside my window and it was six in the morning. I grabbed the nearest pillow and tried to smother myself with it. The horn sounded again, then my mobile went off. I groped along the nightstand until I found it and answered on pure muscle memory. “’Lo?”

“E.”

“Jam?”

“Are you still sleeping?”

“I was, but there’s some idiot outside honking and I’m thinking about doing something illegal.”

“You better be thinking about doing something illegal; it’s time to go!”

“Jam…” I groaned and rubbed at my face. “What time is it even?”

“Six! And we’ve a long enough drive to Cardiff, so get your bum down here.”

“That’s you outside?”

“I have coffee for you,” Jam sang.

Oh, well… If there was coffee. I struggled out of bed and crossed to the balcony, pulling it open to get a fresh breath of air. Then I started to laugh. “Jesus. Are you driving that?”

Jam stood on the open top deck of a double decker party bus and waved her arms merrily. “Get in, Loser!” she shouted. “We’re going stealing!”

I still figured there was no way we’d even get near the studio, and no prayer of getting in, and certainly no hope of actually finding and stealing the special. But this was better than a hen party. And last time we’d had so much fun. And… Who was I kidding, I really, really wanted to go. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, isn’t it? I sighed and gave a wave. I had a bag packed anyway. It took about ten minutes before I stumbled out of the house in my normal civies, and I was met with a cheer as I boarded the bus. “You’re all nutters!” I hollered back.

Turned out, Jam had hired the bus and it came with a driver. So we were all free to enjoy the drive. There was coffee, Thank you Ami. And Who had baked cookies. And Fleur was tucked into one of the corners reading. And Nicole was busy typing on her laptop… That was oddly suspicious. Jam was bouncing in the seats, and when I enquired about food (not biscuits) to go with the coffee, she gave a wicked grin and produced a Tupperware container of fresh scones. I raised a brow.

“Oh, right, ‘course,” she set out a tub of cream and a tub of jam. “Couldn’t forget those.”

I giggled. “Terrible.”

She shrugged.

“So, you were pretty vague on the phone. Do we have an actual plan?”

“Do we have a plan?” Who frowned at me.

“What do you take us for?” Ami asked.

“Amateurs?” Fleur finished.

I glanced around. “Uh… Yeah.”

Nicole snickered from behind her laptop. “We are!”

“Do not fart in this bus!” Who ordered.

“Nicole has a source on the inside,” Jam nodded. “Who has our entry plan. Fleur and Ami have our exit strategy.”

I raised a brow. “Glitter bombs?”

Ami giggled, “Better than that.”

Fleur shook her head, “Jam is the muscle and our translator. Have you heard some of the locals there?”

“So uh…” I held my hands out. “Why am I here?”

“Moral support?” Jam offered. I snorted. “No, no. We need… Well, look, we need someone with your expertise.”

I wrinkled my nose. “My expertise? As a medic? Please tell me you don’t need a medic.”

Jam shook her head. “You’re… Well, you’re light fingered.”

“Jam, no.”

“Jam, yes.”

I glared.

“We might need you to… I don’t know… lift a badge. Maybe. Probably. Definitely.”

I sighed. “You guys are terrible.”

“And we need someone who can gather funds for bail,” Nicole answered with a wicked grin.

I burst out laughing. Oh God. This was going to be ridiculous. “So… How are we getting in?”

“Well,” Who started. “Do you remember what you were told to bring?” I nodded. Sure. Easy enough. Doctor costume. Done. “I actually… This is so funny… I baked our entry.”

“You… Baked it?” I had sudden images of marijuana plants and realized I probably wasn’t far off.

“You’ll see it when we get there.”

I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face. I didn’t have enough coffee in me for this yet. Maybe I should just take a nap.

~

“I swear to god, if that sharpie touches my face, I will murder you where you stand.” I cracked an eye to glare at Fleur where she hovered, holding a fuchsia sharpie over my cheek.

“It was just going to be a daisy,” she grinned.

“Not in sharpie, it’s not.” I waited until she capped the pen, pouting nonetheless, before I sat up. “Get your hands on some Crayolas or something and we’ll talk.”

“Really?”

I was suddenly concerned that she had a box of them stashed in her bag. “Maybe.”

“How’d you know?” Fleur went back to drawing in her sketchbook, the colors bright and vivid enough to see from across the bus.

“I have siblings, and sharpies smell,” I muttered. “Where are we?”

“Nearly there,” Jam handed me a fresh cup of coffee. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting into our disguises?” Ami offered.

“Too right!” Who called from down back. “We won’t get in without them.”

I frowned. I still didn’t see how that would help, but alright. I started to weigh the likelihood of actually getting arrested. Or of losing my job. Jam dropped my bag into my lap with a grin, “Off ye go now.”

I took one more indulgent slug of coffee and held up my hands in surrender. “Alright, I’m going.” I headed to one of the curtained areas in the back corner of the bus and started to change. I’d thrown a pair of my navy scrubs and black cons into my bag with an old steth that I really wouldn’t mind if it disappeared. I figured that a white coat wouldn’t be stealthy so I’d foregone the old icon in favor of a cheesy Red Cross arm band that I’d obtained years ago from god knows where, and a navy scrub cap that I’d filched off of one of my friends. As a finishing touch, I clipped a Doc McStuffins ID badge to the breast pocket of my scrub top. I looked like a costume party doctor, or like a weirdly themed strip-o-gram, but it would work well enough and I could hide my hair under the scrub cap. I started hiding things in my numerous pockets: phone, wallet, keys, lock picks… Then slid my glasses in place and headed back to the center of the bus.

“E, what are you wearing?” Ami sounded mildly offended.

I glanced around. Ami was wearing gray track pants, an oversized burgundy smoking jacket or something, an odd brown hat, and the longest stripy scarf I’d ever seen. Fleur was fixing a familiar looking, black daisy flower crown around her ponytail, but had a new black leather jacket over a deep purple vee-neck tee shirt, skinny black jeans, and doc martins. Fleur did a double take when she saw me. I frowned.

“Oh my God, E,” Nicole clamped a hand over her mouth to hold in a giggle. She was one to talk with a bowtie and a fez, she looked more ridiculous than I did… Wait, bowtie and fez?

“Jam!” Who called. “Jam, you have to see this.” At least Who looked somewhat respectable; brown, pinstriped, three-piece suit with a simple white shirt and crisp tie. The worn out cream, or maybe once cream, colored cons were a bit out of place, but needs must, right?

I didn’t like the way everyone was looking at me. Jam clapped a hand on Who’s shoulder. “What’sit now?” Jam was probably the most sensibly dressed of anyone, though again, it wasn’t anything I’d work in. She had on black skinny jeans and a black waistcoat over a white shirt, and doc martins. She slid her arms into a black suit jacket with red lining as she gave me a quick once over. “E…”

“What?! You said dress as a doctor!” I gestured emphatically at my scrubs. “And I’m… I…” Oh Jesus. Dress as a doctor. Doctor. “Oh… Doctor… Right.” I sighed. “I’m an idiot.”

Jam started giggling, “Ye barry bampot.”

I crossed my arms. “You didn’t say!”

“No, no,” Nicole interjected. “This is perfect. We can work with this.” I felt like pouting. Fucking hell; Doctor. “My inside guy is ready. So we’ve only got to get to the door.”

Who grinned. “I’ve got that covered. Let’s get the van.”

“Van?”

~

Now I knew we were in trouble. I knew we were doomed. It wasn’t so much that there was no hope of getting inside, it was that there was actually a reasonable possibility we would make it past the first door. It was what happened once we were past that first door that I couldn’t put as much stock in. I sighed and shook my head. “Explain this too me one more time. How does this get us inside?” I gestured to the massive cake sitting in the back of the van.

Who grinned. “See. We hide in the cake.”

“And my man on the inside signs for deliveries.” Nicole added. “So we wait until we’re inside and burst out of the cake.”

“It’s a Trojan cake,” Ami laughed.

“Trojan TARDIS!” Fleur cheered.

I furrowed my brow. “Look. That cake is… Amazing looking. And it’s big. But I don’t care if it’s in the shape of a TARDIS, we’re not all going to fit.”

“We don’t all have to fit,” Jam rested her hand on my shoulder.

“Then how do we all get in?”

“Well,” Jam rocked her head back and forth. “Who is going to wheel the cake in. You get in _in_ the cake. And then…” She raised her brows at me.

“Then?”

“Then… I’m sure… Well, ye’ll find a way to unlock one of the doors.”

“Jam, no!”

“E, yes!”

“And I’ll come in with you,” Nicole added helpfully. “I’ve to meet that lovely fool that’s letting us in.”

I sighed. “And… we’ll both fit?”

“The tray is hollow as well. You’ll both fit.”

I didn’t like it. “Are there… like… a lot of random people walking around for me to lift a badge from?”

“Loads,” Jam grinned.

I pressed my eyes shut. I was definitely going to lose my job. I would be fired. I’d be struck off. Did I even know anyone in Cardiff that could bail me out of jail? “Fine,” I winced. “But I’m not jumping out of the cake. I don’t care how much you threaten me, it’s just not on my bucketlist, yeah?”

“It’s too pretty to jump out of,” Ami said reverently.

Jam tried to swipe a bit of frosting from the corner, but Who smacked her hand. “No. Not until later.”

“Who’s T?” Fleur pointed at the corner of the cake where a small signature of sorts was etched in frosting.

“Yeah,” Nicole nodded.

Fleur frowned. “What?”

Nicole blinked. “You said, ‘Who’s T?’ I said yes.”

“Yes is T?” Fleur looked confused.

“No, no. Who’s T.”

“That’s what I asked!” Fleur threw her hands up.

Ami wrinkled her nose. “I don’t get it. Who’s T?”

“Yes,” Nicole nodded sagely.

“What?”

“Who’s T,” Nicole echoed.

“Exactly!” Fleur pointed.

“Right,” Nicole nodded.

“I don’t understand!” Ami cried.

Who started to giggle. “I’m T.”

“Oh.”

Nicole bumped her forehead off of Who’s shoulder in a goofy sign of affection. “Isn’t my wife just so talented?”

Jam grinned. “So… Who made the cake?”

“Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “Just put me in the damned cake.”

Jam clipped something to my pocket. “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

I made a face. “Why me?”

Ten minutes later, Nicole and I were sitting on the rolling table, half inside the giant hollow cake, and Who was pushing us towards the main doors to the BBC studios. Nicole shifted nervously and I gave her a stern look. “For the love of all that is holy, Nicole, do not fart inside this cake.”

She stifled a giggle and shook her head.

“Sorry, what’s this now?”

I raised a brow at Nicole and we both collectively held our breaths.

“Cake!” Who declared. “It’s for the luncheon tomorrow. Clearly.”

There was a pause.

“Deliveries around back.”

“Oh, right. Alright.” And we were moving again.

“Was that on purpose?” I hissed.

Nicole nodded. “Gives the cake a reason to be inside on the cameras.”

“There are cameras?!”

Nicole shushed me.

“Do you hear that?” I listened. “Is Who humming?”

Nicole nodded.

I knocked on the metal tray. “Who! Stop humming the Mission Impossible Theme right now!”

There was a chuckle. The music changed to the James Bond Theme. Goddammit. The wheels clattered across an uneven segment of the pavement, and we stopped again.

“Delivery?”

“For the luncheon tomorrow.”

“I can sign for that!”

My ears perked at that. The voice sounded excited. Ridiculously excited. Like an overgrown child trapped in a man’s body. Like a golden retriever. Nicole smiled and I rolled my eyes. “Him?” I mouthed, jerking my thumb in the direction of the voice. She smiled and nodded. I shook my head.

The animated voice chirped again, “Come on. I’ll show you where you should _leave_ that cake. Where it _needs_ to be to do its job. The cake. The cake’s job.”

My jaw dropped and I stared at Nicole. You could practically hear the air quotes he must be using. “Oh,” I muttered. “Is that the cake you’re using to break in? The break in cake? The cake that’s hiding people so you can break into the BBC for the break in?” Nicole wound up and punched my thigh. “Ow!” I hissed.

She snickered.

“Laugh it up. See if I bail you out of jail.”

Nicole pulled a face, then tumbled over onto me as the cart stopped abruptly. Who knocked on the side and pulled the door open. “All’s clear,” then she giggled. “Do you two need a minute alone?”

Nicole scoffed and rolled out of the cart, taking Who out at the knees and the pair of them toppled to the cold floor of the walk-in fridge. I sighed and tried to gracefully exit our Trojan TARDIS, managing to not quite flop out on the floor. I stood, dusted myself off and shot a wary glance at the guy fidgeting by the door. When the three of us were on our feet again, he broke into a broad grin and clapped his hands. “That was amazing! Like proper double-o-sevens you are.”

I furrowed my brow. “Is he for real?”

Who winked at me. “This is Nicole’s inside guy.”

Nicole offered her hand. “I’m Nicole. You must be Kevin?”

“Oh yay!” He took her hand and shook it vigorously. “Nicole!” He threw his arms around her and hugged her. I looked at Who and mouthed an inquiry. She shrugged back. He released Nicole and turned towards Who and me, arms open, “And you brought friends!”

I held out my hands in defense. “No. I’m not a hugger.”

He high-fived one of my hands. “That’s ok too!”

Who just laughed. “I ought to go. They’ll be expecting me to leave after that delivery. I’ll see you ladies back at the bus.”

I nodded. Nicole nodded once. Kevin bounced. At least, I think it was a bounce, if grown men bounce when they’re excited or happy or breathing or whatever it was he was doing. “Bus? Is that a code for something? It must be a code. You are all so smart!”

I shot Who a pleading glance. Please don’t leave us with this guy. Please tell me this is a joke. She was chuckling as she left.

“So,” Nicole grinned. “Will we see about letting in the rest of the gang?”

“I have just the thing for that!” Kevin bubbled. I groaned.

~

I couldn’t tell if I was more relieved or concerned as I slid the window shut behind Jam. She was the last one in. And now, we were all in. Do or die. And that was definitely feeding my growing concern. Jam glanced at my hands, “Surgical gloves?”

I shrugged. “I’m an ex-pat that works for the State. You guys might be fine, but they have my prints on file. I’m not taking that chance.”

“They’ll never know it was you,” she squinted at the keycard I’d nicked and clipped to my scrubs as an ID badge. “Prawo Jazdy.”

I smirked. “Small bit of Irish trivia,” I tapped at the badge. “I find this hilarious.”

“Hilarious and amazing. We don’t even know how those badges work!”

I turned slowly and gave Kevin a very concerned stare. “Yes we do. We literally just programmed this after I nicked it from the lockers.”

“Yeah, but how does it _keep_ working after we program it?” he raised a brow.

I cleared my throat. “Jam, this is Kevin. Kevin is an intern here. He’s the one that got us in the door. Jam, this is Nicole’s brilliant plan.”

Jam stuck out a hand, but was instantly wrapped in a hug and lifted off her feet. “Oh you are a wee bundle of delight!”

I pressed my eyes shut and shook my head as he finally dropped her back on her feet. “Right.” I crossed my arms. “Now that we’re all friends, I think it’s about time we Golf Tango Foxtrot Oscar, hm?”

“Golf? I love golf! Who’s Oscar? They coming too?” Kevin lit up like a puppy.

“OH MY GOD! Nicole!” I waved a hand at Kevin. “Can you, I don’t know, translate for him or something?!”

Nicole managed something that was both calming and maternal when she spoke to Kevin, explaining the vault we needed to find. And the urgency of it. “So, you’re saying the vault is in one of the empty sound stages?”

Ami and Fleur exchanged a quick glance. “We can work with that.”

“Great.” I gave a quick nod. “Kevin, you can get us into the vault, yeah?”

“No, no,” he shook his head vehemently. “I can’t get you into the vault without getting Three out first.”

“Out?” Ami objected. “There’s another person we have to get out?”

“Who’s Three?” Fleur demanded.

“No, Who’s T,” Nicole snickered.

“Oh my God, shut up!” Ami hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“The BBCThree intern,” Kevin said quietly. “I… I have a friend… That was standing in for me. Doing the BBCThree intern stuff. They locked him up!”

I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Who locked him up?” Nicole snickered again and I hunched my shoulders further. “Why would the BBC lock up an intern?”

“Do people not do that?” Kevin asked mildly surprised. “I’ve been interning for my Uncle Jim, and when I don’t get it right, he’s so very nice about it and just leaves me in my office to fix it.”

“Leaves you in your office?” I raised a brow.

“Well. The door is locked. But that’s so no one disturbs me. Except for food and water. They drop that off. I normally can fix it. You know. Fast enough that it doesn’t ruin anything for him. Did you know that it’s really hard to hold a sniper rifle and pet a kitten at the same time?”

“The thought would never have occurred,” I muttered.

“Great way to cross Europe undetected is in the back of a freezer truck!” He continued, undeterred. “And did you know that AirBnB isn’t actually a B&B in the air? I mean, talk about false advertising!”

“Why would you…” Jam started and bit back the end of her question. We probably didn’t want to know.

“And one time, I was chasing this person and they absolutely disappeared. I found out weeks later that they were hiding in a barrel of glitter. Glitter! Who would think of trying that?!” He took a deep breath. “And then, there was one time that Uncle Jim had a job on a kids show, and that’s how I found out I wanted to be an actor!”

“I thought you wanted to be a spy,” Fleur murmured.

“Oh, I do!” Kevin dropped his voice. “I am,” he whispered loudly. “Interning for Uncle Jim is just the start.”

“And what, exactly, does your Uncle Jim do?” I knew it was a mistake to ask. The second I’d finished the question, I wanted to take it back. I really didn’t want to know anything more about this Uncle Jim. “Never mind.” I waved my hands. “Never mind. We can talk about it later.” Or not. “If we get your friend out, you can help us get into vault, yes?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely.” Kevin straightened up. “Plus, my friend is the one that’s been turning off the cameras for us.”

“What?”

“Well, with all the access to the social media networks and the internet and the security system, he’s just been making sure we’re ok.” Kevin turned to one of the ceiling mounted cameras, which thankfully did not appear to be functioning. “We’ll be right there!” he mouthed dramatically and bounded from the room.

God help us. Fleur and Ami headed for the vault, a quick nod to needing to set up the exit and accommodate an extra body. Nicole, Jam, and myself – we were stuck chasing after Kevin. He led us through doorways and down stairwells and across corridors. I was growing concerned that even my internal compass was confused and he could very well be disorienting us enough to get us arrested. Finally, he stopped in front of an odd looking door.

“This is it,” he gestured.

Nicole stifled a laugh and I glared. “What?” she asked. “It says dungeon on the door!”

“I know,” Kevin shook his head. “One was _SO_ cross about the DoctorWho trailer thing. I haven’t been able to see Three since then!”

Something was nagging me about the door. It looked odd because it was old. Old as in it was seriously outdated. Outdated, but had three large deadbolts and a padlock on it. Strangely, it didn’t look alarmed, and there was no swipe card access. “You… You’re sure this is where your friend is?”

Kevin nodded. “I used to work here. But I’ve started doing small bits. Acting and the like.”

Jam leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Does that outfit look familiar to you?”

I gave her the most concerned expression I could muster and fished the lock picks out of my pocket. “Come on. I’m not doing all four of these on my own.”

It took us the better part of fifteen minutes to work our way through the numerous deadbolts, the padlock, and the doorknob itself. And I let out a large sigh of relief as the final tumbler clicked into place. I shot Jam a glance and turned the handle, easing the door open.

“Hello?”

The room was dimly lit by numerous computer monitors, perched almost haphazardly on a narrow desk, pushed against the far wall. I quickly picked out different websites on each screen – Twitter, the BBC homepage, Facebook, Tumblr, the Daily Mail??? – and at least four screens with black and white camera feeds from across the building. The oversized, wheeled chair had it’s back to us and a large tabby cat was sitting next to the mouse pad, facing the monitors.

I had flashes of all the clichéd villain introductions that started like this. No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die. I cleared my throat again. “Hello?”

“Oh my! You got the door open! Thank god!” Kevin pushed into the doorway and clapped his hands. The man was a maniac.

The cat turned. Blinked at us lazily. And let out a single sharp meow. I wrinkled my nose. I am so flipping allergic. Oh, oh god, the cat noticed. Why is it that cats seem to know which person is _least_ likely to want to be near them? Why? How? It stared at me, and started swatting absently at the computer mouse on the pad. I furrowed my brow as the cat just slowly bopped the mouse over the side of the desk and stood to stretch and arch its back with a yawn.

The mouse bounced off the arm of the chair and headed for the floor, the cord pulling taut, and next thing I knew, the keyboard followed, as did the nearest monitor, and another, and the entire computer console. The station seemed to collapse to the floor with a loud and cracking clatter, dropping the room into darkness as the debris of what was once a proper terminal settled on the floor.

I was completely frozen in place. If the noise of the destruction didn’t bring security, the electrical surge that blew out the remaining monitors probably would. Fucking cats…

“Mr. Whiskers!” Kevin cried happily, ducking into the dark room.

“Wait,” I whispered.

“What?” Jam hissed.

“Oh my god!” Nicole started laughing.

“No, no…” I started and stopped. What the fuck? “Wait. Kevin… You-your friend is… Is a fucking cat?” I glared, feeling my eyes start to itch. Oh God, I was going to start sneezing.

“This,” Kevin said with a soft coo, “Is the BBC Three intern.” He scooped up the giant tabby cat and started petting him avidly. “He’s my friend.”

I looked at Jam who shrugged, “I dinnae expect that.”

No. Just no. I was absolutely NOT going to go to jail over a cat… “Nicole!”

Nicole just patted Kevin’s shoulder. “Aw, I’m so glad we could free your friend.”

Kevin gave her a very serious look. “They had him locked in the dungeon. It was all my fault. He was only supposed to be standing in for me, but _they_ are SO mean.”

I sighed heavily. Jesus fucking Christ. We were liberating a cat. The BBCThree intern was a cat. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more I was convinced I’d lost my mind. “Right. Ok. Look… Kevin…” I tried to keep a straight face. “We uh… We helped with…” I waved a hand. “Your friend. So. Can you get us into the vault now? Please?”

“Me? Oh, no. No of course not! I couldn’t possibly.”

I gave Jam the forlorn look of someone with too little sleep and too much stress and likely a forming ulcer.

“Buuut,” Kevin started again. “My Uncle Jim can totally get us in.”

“Your Uncle Jim?” I asked slowly. Why did that sound alarming?

“Sure. And I promised I’d bring Mr. Whiskers here back home for his tiger, because man was Seb sad. And I’m sure he’ll tell me how to open it.”

“Jam,” I hissed behind my hand. “Please tell me he’s not going to feed that cat to a much larger cat.”

Kevin set the cat, set Mr. Whiskers on the floor and clapped his hands again. “Come on, Mr. Whiskers! To the vault!”

I gave myself a small internal shake. Sure. Why not. Let’s follow this odd man-child and a cat into the most secure BBC studio room. Makes sense. I was looking forward to getting arrested now. The insanity plea was in the bag.

“Hey,” Jam knocked her elbow off my arm. “I know why that outfit looks familiar.”

I blinked at her. “Oh?” Bring it. Nothing could surprise me now.

She pulled out her phone and brought up a rather familiar website. It was actually John Watson’s blog; one of the press clippings that had been inserted into a blog post with a picture of John and Sherlock outside of their flat. I quirked a brow, then found myself wheezing and gasping for air. Oh my god. Jam was right. Kevin was dressed as if he’d raided John Watson’s closet. “Think he’s wearing the red pants too?” Jam started giggling, and the pair of us had to run to catch up.

~

I only realized I was holding my breath when Jam let out a loud puff of air. I was nearly positive I’d been mirroring her wide-eyed stare. “Feck.”

Jam huffed out a laugh. “I dinnae expect that.”

“Was it a bloody bank vault first?!”

“Aye, looks like it.”

I gave her a forlorn glance. “There’s no bloody way, Jam.” It was like a solid metal block, occupying the vast majority of the oversized room. Nearly a storey up was a metal catwalk that crisscrossed the lighting grid and encompassed the electrical lattice, looking uncomfortably unstable except where it was physically secured to the outside walls. Small slants of light came from the four windows, letting in the glare of streetlamps, and the emergency lights over the exits were glowing red. The whole thing had an ominous feel. But frankly, the massive door to the walk in vault looked like something from a cartoon. I sighed. “What are we going to do?” Fleur and Ami had set something on the catwalk; clearly we’d need to be up there to get out. Out of pure frustration, we’d sent Nicole up to join them. Safer that way. Particularly considering the now overwhelming chance we were screwed.

“Brilliant!”

I glared at Kevin then wrinkled my nose at the cat that wound itself through his legs. “What about this is brilliant, Kevin? Can you open that?” I waved my hand at the massive door. “Because they didn’t exactly teach this at med school.”

Jam snickered at me. “And filching keys was in second year, was it?”

“Whisht!”

I was beginning to think Kevin didn’t have a facial expression outside of wonder and glee based on the smile he was still wearing. “I’ll ring Uncle Jim. He knows all about these things. I’m sure he has a way in.” And Kevin was punching in a number on his mobile.

I raised a brow. “So… This Uncle Jim,” I mumbled to Jam. “Tell me he works for a security firm or something.”

“A hae nae thochtie,” she shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, English. Please.”

“Here!” Kevin thrust a mobile into my face. “He’s going to help!”

I blinked and took the phone reflexively. “H-hello?”

“I really hope you’re more interesting than the last set of friends my nephew found. I do dote on him, but I don’t tolerate disappointment.”

I swallowed heavily. Right. Uncle Jim was creepy. “Uh. Alright. Then I hope you find Diebold Titan II vault doors interesting.”

“You have my attention,” the voice on the other end growled.

I chewed on my lower lip. “I haven’t much experience with them outside of my bank. And, regretfully, one of the other…” I paused. The stupid fucking cat, crossed my mind before I thought better of saying it. “One of the other interns here has… disrupted the electrical supply to the building?” I winced. “And I’m pretty sure that while the entire security system is now down, so is all the power.”

“And you just left the portable drill and semtex at home.” Semtex?! I pressed my eyes shut. Who carried around semtex? There was an exaggerated sigh. “What kind of handle is on the door?”

“Handwheel?”

“Dual combination locks?”

“Yeah.”

“My, my. Kevin does like a challenge. I do so hate to let down that radiant idiot. Have you seen the look on his face when he tries to describe something as not brilliant?”

“Er… No.” I shifted uncomfortably at the silence from the other end of the line.

“If he ever mentions you as being not brilliant, I’ll make a throw pillow of your entrails.”

I flinched.

There was a shifting sound and deep rumbling from someone away from the receiver. “Alright, alright, fine!” Uncle Jim hissed. “Put the phone on speaker and the microphone over the first combo lock and do exactly what I say. You’re on your own for the lock on the handle.”

It was a solid twenty minutes before I was at the handle with my lock picks. Kevin was babbling, rambling on and on over the phone to his Uncle. And the words ‘brilliant’ and ‘whiskers’ kept coming up again and again. I was actually sweating; I’d never felt so much pressure to get something right. Jam was sitting just out of arm’s reach, keeping the cat from ‘helping’ me. I was already sniffley and itchy from his previous attempts to climb into my lap. I felt the last tumbler drop into place and sucked in a sharp breath. “Got it,” I whispered. “Jam… I think…” I twisted one of the picks as I turned the handle and it moved. It moved, clicked, and the bars groaned as the door opened out. “Fuck me.”

“Later,” Jam muttered absently, dropping the cat and pushing to stand.

“Oh! Brilliant!” Kevin broke the reverent atmosphere with a shout and a clap.

Jam found Ami on the catwalk, “Still good?”

Ami nodded, “Still clear.”

“Kevin, watch the door!” Nicole called down.

“I’m on it!”

I waited until he was poking his head, rather obviously, out the door to watch the corridor, before smirking at Jam. “He’s humming the Mission Impossible theme song, isn’t he?”

Jam grinned. “He’ll be a great spy.”

“Well, Uncle Jim is terrifying,” I muttered. “Crack on, shall we?”

“After ye.”

I pulled the door open wide enough for us to fit and slipped inside. There were shelves upon shelves of boxes and cassettes and film reels and posters and papers and scripts and props. “Jam, how the hell are we going to find this in here?”

“Just look for…” She paused, fixing on something on one of the shelves. “Hey, I’d bet they have all ten of their props in here.”

“As long as they don’t keep their actors in here as well.”

Jam snorted and started reaching up toward one of the high shelves. After a moment, she climbed the bottom two and let out a victorious whoop. “Bingo!”

“Brilliant!” I retorted wryly. She dumped two large boxes from the shelf onto the floor and spilled the contents across the concrete. “Oi!” I hissed at her.

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, Kevin’s watching the door.”

“God help us… Is that a deerstalker?”

She held up a pipe and comically large magnifying glass. “These look familiar?”

I plonked the bowler cap that had rolled out onto her head. “That’s a good look for you.” I squatted down and started poking through the detritus. “Is it on a normal reel?”

“Should be.”

I found an odd looking USB wrapped in a yellow post-it and stuck it automatically into my back pocket. “Jam, there’s got to be a box of actual reels somewhere.”

She stood and looked around, frowning. “Boxes…” We risked venturing deeper into the vault. “Boxes,” Jam muttered.

I followed her line of sight and scoffed. “Boxes.” There were hundreds of them. “Are they… In some sort of order?”

“Release date.”

I raised a brow and we both broke out in giggles. “So… End of 2015?”

She nodded and we got down to it, flicking through the upright tins of reels. “E, I think I have it.” She tossed the bowler hat to the side.

“Think?” I glanced at the tin: _Special 1895_. “Jam…”

“I think we have it.” A broad smile spread across her face and I felt just as gleefully surprised. We… We actually found it. Holy crap. We found it. There was no way.

“JAM! E!”

We were on our feet and out of the vault faster than I thought we could move. Ami was working madly on something, unwrapping the miles of scarf she’d worn for her costume. Fleur was balancing on the lighting grid near the door, carefully setting small balloons on the metal rigging. Just the sight of her up there gave me the spins. Nicole was focusing on the window and waving her arms at us. “Nicole?”

“Ladies, we have company!”

“Security?” Jam called.

“Worse!” Ami shouted. Was she tying her scarf to the catwalk? Ami what are you doing? “Looks like Sherlock and Watson are here!”

“What?!” I blurted out.

“In Cardiff?!” Jam snapped.

“I was actually expecting them,” Kevin said from just behind my shoulder.

I spun around. “What do you mean you were expecting them?” I demanded.

“Well,” Kevin gave a ridiculous caught-with-hand-in-cookie-jar smile. “I was borrowing the costumes for my improv group, right? And may have forgotten to return a few. And then last week, Three was alerted that BBC was noticing, and I was going to bring them back, but we have a big show this Saturday. Do you like improv? I could get you tickets!”

I grabbed him by the lapels and gave him a shake. “You did what?” I hissed through clenched teeth.

Jam grabbed my shoulders and pulled me off of him. “We gotta go, E.”

I took a deep breath and let it out through my nose, glaring at Kevin. “Right. You’re right.”

He straightened his jumper and smiled like a small child. “You should DO improv. You’d be brilliant. I actually thought you were mad at me!”

I made an uncomfortable sound high in my throat and for a moment, I was worried I might be having a heart attack. I grit my teeth, “I thought you were watching the door, Kevin.”

“Oh. I was. It’s right there. Hasn’t moved!”

“They’re in the building, we’ve got to go!” Nicole shouted.

“How in the hell did you get up there?!” Jam held the tin out in agitation. “And how am _I_ supposed to get up there?!”

“Ladder,” Ami called. “Far wall. Get a move on!”

“Eh. Jelly. Jam. Lady?” Kevin tugged on the back of Jam’s jacket. “They’re out in the hall. I’ve closed the door. But the door is going to move soon.”

“Fuck,” I hissed.

“E, go!” She gave me a shove in the direction of the ladder. “Nicole!”

I saw the tin go airborne as Jam threw it like a Frisbee. I was more surprised when Nicole snatched it mid flight. I scrambled up the ladder as the door burst open and the room broke into chaos.

“RUN MR. WHISKERS!” Kevin launched himself at a studio security guard as the cat darted between Sherlock’s legs.

“Out you go!” Ami gave Nicole a boost up and out the window. I know I gave a small choked off cry before I noticed the climbing harness around Nicole that Ami was anchoring.

“Stop!” Sherlock bellowed. Though, who he wanted to stop and who might actually obey the command was an absolute mystery to me.

“Geronimo!” Nicole cried and she and her fez disappeared below the window ledge.

“Hey!” John barked, trying to pull Kevin off of the security guard. And while Kevin wasn’t much of a fighter, nor was he doing anything harmful to the man, he was squirming out of John’s reach every few seconds. Then John caught an elbow from the security guard right in the solar plexus and he stumbled back against Sherlock.

Fleur had finished on the lighting grid and leapt from the railing onto the catwalk next to Ami. Fucking ninja, that one. “Heads up, Jam!” she sang, and Jam instantly pressed herself against the outside wall. Wait, what was Jam doing on that chair? Fleur winked at me and clicked a small remote. A series of popping sounds echoed around the room and clouds of glitter exploded from the metal grid, showering the crowd at the door with a sparkling rain.

“Bloody hell!” John complained loudly. “Again?!”

Sherlock made an irritated noise high in his throat and rolled his eyes.

Jam was moving again, prying the window on the ground floor open. Fleur collected the rope from the harness and… I couldn’t even identify how she twisted it around her waist and between her legs. She gave clicked the remote again and a second wave of glitter and confetti exploded. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Fantastic!” Fleur chuckled and spun herself out of the window to abseil down the side of the building.

“Brilliant!” Kevin cried into the mess of decoration that was still falling. Then he made a sound something like an ‘oof’ as the security guard tackled him to the ground, smothering them both in glitter.

I dropped into a crouch, absolutely paralyzed with silent giggles. I couldn’t breathe for the laughter and the wheeze still present from that fucking cat, I couldn’t really see the four men at the door for all the iridescence slowly reaching the ground, but I could hear. And I heard Jam burst out with a giggle that only made me laugh harder.

Then Sherlock saw her. Well, he’d probably seen her earlier, now he noticed her. “You!”

John followed his gaze and caught sight of Jam. It was hard to identify the expressions that crossed his face in rapid fire succession, but even from as far away as I was, I saw the deep crimson that spread out to the tips of his ears. “Again?!”

“Run, Jam!” Ami called from the window. I furrowed my brow; she was wrapped back up in her stripy scarf. Like, bundled. Or wound. Or… Oh God. Ami was out the window. The scarf whirling her around like a top. I was contemplating screaming, when I saw her slow and spin neatly to a stop outside the ground floor window, like an acrobat on the aerial silks, hovering with a hand out to Jam. “C’mon!”

Jam’s eyes went wide as Sherlock started at her full tilt. She emitted a loud eep and kicked off the chair to clamber out the window. In all the force behind her movement, the chair tumbled off to the side, catching her not quite high enough to be out the window. And in what would have been impossibly perfect if not for the timing, the window slid shut, trapping Jam half in, half out the window.

Jam flailed for a moment, waving Ami away madly before busting out in a fit of giggles. “Fuck’s sake!” John growled, trying to catch one of her legs as Sherlock considered the window cautiously. “Stop wriggling!”

“I canna dae it Cap’n!” Jam cried between chuckles as Sherlock tried to slide the window open again. The back of John’s neck was glowing crimson again, between the patches of multicolored glitter, of course. Sherlock snorted.

I should have done something. I’m not sure what could be done, but from where I was standing, it looked like Kevin and Jam were both busted. I should have… I don’t know… Helped them? But I was laughing too hard and I couldn’t stop. I tried to stuff my entire fist into my mouth to keep quiet, stumbling backward against the wall for support. The moment my shoulder hit the wall, I was in trouble. I flailed, letting out a loud squeak of protest as the wall gave way. Oh fuck, I was going to fall to my death. Well, not a wall, a door apparently. And I tumbled out into the dead end of a corridor as the door clicked shut behind me. Shit.

I gave the door a shove and it wouldn’t move. There wasn’t even a handle. Goddammit! I was locked out. Or locked in. Where the hell was I?

“HEY!”

I spun toward the sound of the shout.

“Hey! What are you doing down there?”

Oh God. There was nowhere to go. I was totally busted. One hundred percent caught. “I… Uh…”

The security guard grabbed my arm and tugged me away from the door and down the hall. “Did you get lost? That’s the completely wrong soundstage.”

“What?”

He opened another door and led me through. “You extras are always getting lost in this place. What did you go for a loo break and get turned around?”

“Um… Yes?”

He snorted and shook his head. “We ought to give you bread crumbs or something. Make you go in pairs. Here you are,” he gestured into another large room. I hesitated. “ _Casualty_ , right? Yeah. Gotta be. In there, so.”

“Oh. Right.” Right… Oh my God, the scrubs. “Right. Uh, thanks!” I gave him a smile and a wave and headed into the set. I ducked through the set, shucking my gloves and weaving the quickest and most discrete route to the exit. I managed to avoid anyone that looked official or might have the cop on to know I didn’t actually belong. And when I pushed out the fire exit into the crisp night air, I released a huge sigh of relief.

Right. Ok. Right. I was outside. Who would be back at the bus. Nicole – with the film – would be back at the bus by now too. Ami and Fleur… Hopefully en route to the bus, if not there already. Kevin and Jam though… I sighed. Alright. Ok. I needed to get back to the bus, and then I supposed we’d be bailing them out of jail? Definitely couldn’t leave Jam here in Cardiff, and the thought of even speaking to ‘Uncle Jim’ on the phone for any reason terrified me enough that I knew we’d be setting Kevin free as well. Now, where was I?

I worked my way around the building. Once I’d found the front door, certainly I could get my bearings and find the bus, right? I stepped around the final corner, the main doors coming into view just as Sherlock and John emerged from the building with Jam, Kevin, and a very annoyed security guard. I did the only thing I could possibly think to do and dove behind the nearest bushes.

Sherlock’s head whipped around, as if he’d seen the movement out of the corner of his eye and I sucked in a breath, hoping the dark navy of my scrubs would hide me. The terror of possibly being caught was quickly eclipsed by sheer amusement. Every time Sherlock moved, a small cloud of glitter puffed out around him and drifted to the ground. It reminded me of the old Disney cartoon of Tinkerbelle, shaking pixie dust when she walked. Oh and John Watson did not look pleased. I would have to see if Sarah needed a locum on Monday; I’d bet there’d still be glitter stuck all over him. The urge to laugh disappeared into the urge to sneeze, and I turned sharply to my right, burying my nose in my elbow and trying to muffle the sound as best I could.

When I dared to look up again, a large tabby cat was weaving its way into the bushes. I glared, “Seriously, I hope you realize how much I hate you right now.” Mr. Whiskers blinked at me and decided it was time to clean his paws. I rolled my eyes.

John had passed Jam over to Sherlock as he tried to pat the glitter off of his jumper and shake it out of his hair. I could hear his angry muttering from here. He finally sighed, wiped his hands on his thighs, and frowned at Kevin, who happened to be equally covered in glitter, but rather pleased with it. Jam went up on her tiptoes and whispered something that only Sherlock could hear and he chuckled in response. John frowned at the pair of them. Sherlock smirked. “Yes, Kevin is wearing a terrible jumper.” John’s frown turned murderous and I was suddenly glad that the cop car took that moment to arrive, pulling up to the curb with blue lights flashing.

The sole uniformed officer that emerged looked like they were only just out of training, and I shook my head; Sherlock was going to destroy them. But I only heard a pleasantly soft Welsh accent as the officer offered to relieve the poor, glittered security guard and take the prisoners down to the station. Everyone seemed to agree that this was for the best.

The officer first collected Kevin and dragged him, cuffed, back to the panda car. “Let me go!” Kevin argued. It was a token resistance and more verbal than physical. And it was far from enough to make the young officer drop him on his arse. “Eh, póg mo thóin! And um... Uncail Jim ag dul a gheobhaidh tú! Where is Mr. Whiskers?! FREE MR. WHISKERS!”

The officer sighed, rolled their eyes, and hissed, “Dydw i ddim yn Iwerddon, rwy'n Cymraeg. Idiot.”

“The Tiger needs his kitten!” Kevin hollared as he was shoved into the car.

“Kena!” The officer slammed the door in the face of a suddenly startled and pale Kevin. What was that? I recognized the Irish, understood most of it. But I was pants at Welsh, and I was certain the first response had been in Welsh. The second one... Sounded like... Pashto? Dari? The officer turned back to the front of the BBC Studio and a furious looking Jam. They sighed and trudged to collect their second prisoner.

I glared at the cat. “You see what you’ve done?”

“Meow.”

I’d lost it. Completely fucked in the head. I was now talking to a cat. Worse, I was blaming a cat for my problems. This is why I can’t have nice things. “I have to pick the one cat that runs a tv station.”

Jam’s good humor had seemed to dissolve in the face of arrest and she was practically spitting by the time they reached the patrol car. I actually flinched as I heard her, “Ye’ll never tak me, polis! Lemme go or ah’ll brak a’ yer cabers!”

And for a moment, I was actually concerned for the officer. But with a crisp... French? Was that French? A flawless french accent, the officer hissed a sharp, “Sur la vie de ma mère! Plus un mot! Complètement cinglé ce pot de confiture écossais.” and stuffed Jam into the car next to Kevin. The officer climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out away from the curb.

Now I was confused. What kind of baby Welsh coppers were able to speak fluent French, Welsh, and Pashto in response to Scottish swears and Irish ranting? I shook my head. I’m done here. I’m going back to the bus. I didn’t have to wait long for the taxi to collect John and Sherlock, likely headed to the nearest station, and for the glittered security guard to give himself a shake and leave a trail of sparkles back into the building. Right. Going. Now.

“Meow.”

I frowned. “I don’t think so, buster. I’m totally allergic to you.”

“Meow.”

“I don’t care if you’re the BBCThree.” Really, E? I rolled my eyes. “Fucking fine!” I scooped up the fluffy tom cat with a huff. There was going to be fur all over my clothes. I would be wheezing for days. “I hope you know how much I dislike you right now.” The cat purred and flexed his claws in and out of my scrub top. Ow! Yeah. Ok. Fine. Right. Fuck you too, cat. I picked my way out of the bushes and glanced up and down the street. Everything had gone quiet. I shook my head and started down the silent road toward the side street that hid the bus. Once we were all together, we could sort bailing Jam out of jail. I wondered if Welsh cops had a good sense of humor about these things.

Three blocks ahead, the cop car reemerged and braked suddenly, pulling up to the curb. I froze. What in the... The cop opened the back door and sat Kevin on the nearest bench. There were stern words and hand gestures that clearly meant he was to stay put, then Kevin was released from the cuffs and the cop drove off. I stared. What was going on? Kevin was sitting on the bench with his arms crossed, clearly pouting like a grounded child.

The sound of someone clearing their throat from directly behind me had be jumping nearly out of my skin. I spun as I let out a startled gasp. Ow ow ow ow. Fucking cat! Dug all four sets of claws into me through the thin cotton of my scrub top. Shit. Ow. Fuck. Then I saw the owner of the voice and I took a nervous step backwards.

“No, no,” he said softly. Softly, but menacingly. How did a bloke so far over six feet and about twice my size manage to sneak up on me in the middle of an abandoned street? Oh no. Abandoned street. “Just stay there, please.” He’d phrased it as a request, but it wasn’t. He smiled, but it was ice cold. I was going to die. He looked like the type of bouncer you didn’t want to crosss late at night, security, military, mercinary. Or... Yeah, he was going to kill me, murder me on this street. I made a small eeping sound and kept my feet on the pavement. He held out a hand, palm up as if expecting something. I stared at it stupidly. “I’ll take the cat,” he said and flashed teeth in his polite but murderous smile.

I tried not to shudder. “Um, ok, right.” I cautiously disengaged the claws from my shirt and handed the cat over. I furrowed my brow as the cat purred loudly and stretched across the man’s forearm.

“Kevin!” the man barked.

I flinched at the tone as much as the sound, but Kevin appeared, bounding up to the man like a golden retreiver. “Ah! You found Mr. Whiskers! Brilliant! They were so mean to him. I mean, he was working for Three, but in the dungeon! And I knew you’d...”

The man clamped his free hand around the scruff of Kevin’s neck and gave him a stern look to silence him. He glanced at me, gave another chilling smile, “Thank you.” Then he turned, dragging Kevin with him and started grumbling at the smaller man.

I stared. I stared for about ten seconds longer than I should have, but I needed the time for my brain to start communicating with my limbs. Then I ran. I turned on my heel and ran for the bus.

In normal circumstances, I would have been a bit put out by how out of breath I was pulling myself up the stairs onto the bus. But I had run the distance as if my life depended on it. It probably had. “Nicole?! Who?!” Both of them startled as I threw myself into the bus. Ami and Fleur were there as well. Great. Everyone was here. “Jam got herself arrested!” I blurted out.

Ami frowned, and Fleur stood up, “What do you mean got arrested.”

I threw my now empty, sans cat, hands up. “Welsh police showed up, took her into custody, and drove off with Jam!” What else did they think arrested means? “Nicole, will you try to figure out where the nearest station is? And maybe... see if you can get an idea of how much this is going to cost?”

Nicole nodded. Who frowned. “Where’s Kevin?”

“Kevin’s fine,” I waved a hand absently. “They left him on a bench.”

“Sherlock left Kevin on a bench?” Who asked flatly.

“Y... No. The cop did.” I shook my head. “Kevin’s fine. His friend collected him. And the fucking cat. They’re fine. It’s just Jam. Ami, you’re going to have to go in and talk to the cops. Just... Just in case Sherlock’s there. He’s seen you before. You don’t even have to change. The scarf will give it away.”

Ami chuckled and Fleur was smiling in a way that I found rather inappropriate.

“It’s not funny!”

Fleur shrugged, “You’re telling me that one, ONE cop pulled up in a car, arrested two people just on a look from Sherlock and John, dropped one of them off on a roadside bench, and left with the second.” I nodded. She smirked. “And that seemed... Right to you?”

“I don’t know!” I threw my hands up. No. Of course it didn’t. But NONE of this was making sense. I was so rattled by Kevin’s ‘friend’ that I wasn’t really thinking clearly. Then the blue flashing lights of a squad car illuminated the bus. “FUCK!”

“Calm down,” Fleur giggled.

The flashing cut out and we were back in just the interior lights of the bus. “I will not calm down! Fleur, this is serious!”

Then the cop waltzed onto the bus.

It took me all of a moment to realize that Jam was still handcuffed, but there was a rather large strip of duct tape covering her mouth. And both she and the cop looked incredibly put out.

“Lose something?”

“What the hell?!” I bellowed.

“You made it!” Fleur pranced over to the cop and pressed a kiss to their cheek.

“Yup. Sorry I was late. Traffic…” They waved out the window and then gave a laugh.

“Uh, Fleur? A word please?” I ground out through clenched teeth.

“Oh, right!” Fleur said brightly. “Introductions. Alex, this is everyone. Everyone, Alex.” The cop smiled. “Alex was the backup plan.”

“Alex,” I said slowly, trying to remember if I knew an Alex.

“Intensitycity,” Ami nodded.

“You knew?!” I demanded. Ami shrugged. Jam was becoming more and more irate looking. “What’s with the duct tape, then? Can’t be standard protocol.” I took Jam’s arm and settled her on one of the benches. Contemplating the tape before snapping it off.

Alex chuckled. “She wouldn’t stop yelling at me. It would have drawn a lot of attention.”

I tried to keep a straight face when I looked back at Jam. I tried and I failed. And I started to giggle. “What, on God’s green earth, were you yelling at a cop for?”

Jam shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You’re a nutter.” I turned towards Alex. “Keys?”

“Yeah, I lost them,” Alex said wryly. “Someone was trying to bite me and I accidently dropped the keys into the storm drain.”

I shook my head. “This is the absolute last thing I’m breaking into tonight.” It took a few minutes to free Jam from the handcuffs and by then, we were well on our way back to London. “I think I need a drink,” I muttered, dropping onto one of the benches. “Where did you get the uniform and patrol car?”

Alex grinned. “Nicked them from BBC, of course.”

“Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t worry. The car is parked on the lot. It’ll be fine.”

I sighed. “Right.” Right. I really needed a drink now. “Jam, where’d we stash the whiskey?”

“C’mon,” Jam bobbed her head. “Let’s take a bottle upstairs.”

“Just one. No bottle. We can go all out once we’re back in London.”

Jam shrugged, but poured us each a glass and we headed to the upper deck of the bus. “So. Did ye think you’d ever crack a vault?”

I watched the countryside fly by the bus. “Nope. Did you think you’d get arrested and have to be gagged for your foul mouth?”

“Absolutely.”

We chuckled. “You’re not pissed at Alex, are you?”

“Nah.” Jam finished her drink with a quick toss of her head. “Saved my hide really.”

I nodded.

“Hey, what happened to Kevin? And Mr. Whiskers?”

I sighed. “Mr. Whiskers attached himself to my scrub top for a few minutes.” I plucked at the neat little holes in the cotton. “And then Kevin’s ‘friend’ showed up and scared the ever-loving shite outta me, took the cat, took Kevin, and left.”

“Friend?” Jam raised a brow. “Uncle Jim?”

“No. But actually terrifying.” I finished my whiskey. “I think Mr. Whiskers was his cat. If anyone can actually possess a cat.”

Jam snorted. “Well, he was running the BBCThree.”

“Could you imagine the planning meetings? Scheduling?”

“How about we put this show here? No.” Jam made a batting motion with her hand. “I do not like it here. Pat, pat, pat, smash!”

“Oh my God, that entire room!” I laughed.

“At least we aren’t the vandals.”

“You know, I’m totally done in. Might grab a nap before we hit London.”

“Sleep up here. We’re going to celebrate downstairs.”

“Don’t celebrate too much. We’re still going out to the pub, yeah?”

Jam grinned. “Aye.”

~

I woke with a start and the incredibly disconcerting sensation that someone was watching me. I wasn’t a deep sleeper, and unless I was home, in my own bed, I would only ever doze. The first thing I noticed was that it was still dark, but not a country dark with stars and distant houses, dark with intent dark. The second thing I noticed was that we weren’t moving. The bus was stationary, the air was still, and the pleasant rumbling of an idling engine was missing. I managed to focus on the roof or ceiling or whatever it was overhead. It looked like concrete. Like the inside of a parking structure. Weird. I wondered if they’d accidentally left me on the bus. Jam wouldn’t have forgotten me, would she?

“Ah ha!”

I let out a small eep as someone grabbed both of my shoulders and heaved me upright, then roughly maneuvered me down the stairs and into the middle of the lower deck of the bus. Two of the tables had been unfolded and I was thrust into the no-man’s-land between. The gang was sitting at one, all warily watching the second table and the man seated there. It didn’t escape my notice that he was blocking our exit. Right.

“Found this one hiding upstairs.”

“I think you’re mispronouncing ‘sleeping.’” I glared at the man who’d up and dragged me from my nap. He looked like a bodyguard in a reasonably well-tailored suit; tailored well enough that it mostly hid the sidearm he was carrying. Mostly. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I tugged my scrub top back into place. “What the bloody fuck is going on?”

“Ah, Doctor Murphy.” My head whipped around to the man at the table. Perfectly posh, public school accent in a tone that was just the right amount patronizing. It made me irrationally angry.

“Hello,” I said cautiously. “Don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“No.” It wasn’t a question. The ‘and we won’t be,’ was understood in his tone. “Tea?”

There was a lovely china pot on the table before him, two delicate teacups resting in saucers. There was one placed in front of each of the gang as well. Right. Clearly the bus had crashed and I was suffering from one massive traumatic head injury. Things like this weren’t real. Were they? What was it my mum had told me? Don’t drink the Kool-Aid. Right. I made myself as tall as possibly, which frankly wasn’t that tall, sniffed at him and stalked over to the liquor cabinet.

“HEY!” the bodyguard, hulking, idiot one made a grab for my shoulder, missed and had to catch himself before making another attempt.

I frowned at him. “Bugger off. I’m getting myself a proper drink.” If I muttered, ‘dick,’ under my breath, I don’t think he heard it. “It’s not like we’re armed or anything.”

“The cleaning bill from Baker Street would rather expensively disagree with you,” the man hummed. I raised a brow, but decided discretion was the better part of valor on that front.

If he knew about that, he probably knew about what we’d been up to this evening, and that really didn’t need to be discussed. I pulled out the bottle of whiskey and closed the cabinet, propping my back against it. “As your friends seem to have pistols, and we merely have decorating supplies and baked goods, I’m not sure your argument is totally valid.”

“E,” Jam hissed. I shrugged at her. I still didn’t quite know what was going on, but everything felt so surreal that I couldn’t bring myself to take it seriously. I took a swig from the bottle instead. “Aer we under arrest?” Jam was starting to lay on a thick drawl.

The man’s eyes flicked pointedly to Alex, still in the police uniform, then back to Jam. “The group of you appropriated materials from a government body. While one might hope to avoid public channels, should cooperation not be forthcoming, arrest would not be out of the question.”

I snorted.

Everyone turned to look at me.

It was hilarious. I couldn’t help it. It was just too ridiculous. I started laughing so hard that I was forced to put the whiskey bottle down. “Sorry,” I waved a hand. “Sorry.” I collected myself and tried to muster my serious face. “So. Just to translate. Just so we’re all clear. You’re here, because we ‘appropriated’ aka took, ‘government materials’ read BBC shit, and if we don’t give it back, you’re gonna throw us in some prison. Do I have that right?” This was the Bond villain I’d expected in the chair back at the BBC.

“Yeah,” Who chimed in. “How do you even know about this?”

“I have… Colleagues with a vested interest.”

“I guess BBC is a ‘government’ run media,” Ami offered.

“Quite.”

“You don’t look like a cop,” Alex shifted forward in the chair.

“I think you’ll find, my dear,” he leveled a cool gaze at Alex. “That my position rather supersedes that of the police force. As does the extent of discipline at my disposal.”

“Maybe he’ll lock us in the dungeon at BBC,” Nicole grinned.

The frown that marred the man’s face would have been comical if not for the utmost lack of humor and we all instantly stopped snickering. Nicole cringed. Oh no. A soft, high-pitched, long, farting noise broke the silence. There was a moment of pause. That fraction of a second where I thought that would be it. We would go down in a blaze of B&E, glitter, and farts. Who cracked first, a laugh bursting out of her. And we all were giggling again.

The man stood, sniffed, and checked his pocket watch. Pompous git. “I would like the film reel. Now, if you please. As well as any other misappropriated materials you might have on your persons.”

Ami sighed and rooted around in one of the bags, finally producing the tin with the special. She set it on the table and crossed her arms petulantly. “It still doesn’t have a title or an airdate.” The bodyguard collected it silently.

“Nor would it, should you have absconded with it,” the man said pointedly as he crossed into the space between the tables. He arched a brow at Jam. “Miss,” he paused, a flicker of annoyance at the corners of his mouth. “Jam.” He looked in pain from having to address someone as a condiment. It was nearly impossible to hold back the chuckle. “If you please?” He held out his hand.

Jam grumbled, but pulled an old pipe from the inside breast pocket of her jacket. “No one even smokes anymore,” she complained. When did she take that? She rolled her eyes at the expression on my face. “You’re not the only one who knows how to nick things.”

“And the camera, my dear?” he waggled his fingers at her until she handed him the GoPro that’d been attached to her lapel. “Thank you.”

He shifted as if to move down the line and Alex stood before he’d made it to that end of the table. With a wry smile, Alex methodically stripped off the cop’s uniform down to pants and a vest. The man glanced at the uniform and Alex shrugged. “You wanted ALL of it back.”

Fleur huffed out a laugh and Alex grinned. The man was not amused, nor was the bodyguard as he struggled to collect the costume. Then he turned to me, closing the distance until he was right in front of me. Damn he was tall. Sure the posture probably made him look an extra few inches higher, but from where I was slouched against the cabinet, he was absolutely towering. He smiled at me, smug bastard. “Doctor Murphy.” He plucked the GoPro from the front of my scrubs. “Anything else of which I should be aware?”

My mind flashed to the USB I’d pocketed. “Ah… No?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “And what, pray tell, happened to the BBCThree intern? I understand his office was destroyed. No one could locate him on the premises.”

I frowned. “The cat?!” For a second, I think he looked startled. “You… You do know that the BBCThree intern is a cat, right? That someone locked a cat in a room to run the BBCThree social media? You were aware, yeah?”

He hummed and shifted backwards, a thoughtful expression on his face. “That certainly accounts for recent changes.” Then his eyes narrowed.

“We don’t have the cat!” I held up my hands. “I’m fucking allergic. It’s bad enough that he left fur all over my clothes. Jesus! Like we’d rob a cat.”

It was more of a smirk than a smile. “And, any specific damages of which I should be aware?”

Fleur giggled. “Sherlock’s coat is going to need to be laundered.”

Alex joined in the laughter. “And John’s.”

“And pretty much everything they were wearing!” Who chuckled.

“They’re leaving a glitter trail back to London now, I’d bet!” Jam was lost in her own laughter now.

The man sighed heavily. “And who’s responsible for that?”

“No!” Nicole crowed. “Who was on the bus the whole time!”

I was almost too horrified to laugh. Almost. But it was damn infections. The man did not appear to find the humor. My mobile chimed. It chimed again. And a third time. And a fourth. Then it started to ring. I recognized the ringtone for an unknown number and figured it’d be better to ignore it. The man arched a brow, looking down his nose at me. It rang again. “Please,” he tilted his head. “Do not shirk your duties on my account.”

I bit my lip. Right. Ok. I tugged the phone from my back pocket and answered it. “Hello?”

“E! Oh wow. Great! Uncle Jim gave me your number! HI!”

I flinched. “Kevin, now is not exactly a great time.” Wait, how did Uncle Jim have my number? I shuddered at the thought and glanced at the man where he was watching me steadily.

“No. I know! I just wanted to say thanks! And Mr. Whiskers says thank! Well… he says meow, but he’s a cat, and that’s cat for thanks.”

I closed my eyes. “Right. Ok.”

“And I had a brilliant time! You guys are brilliant!”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

“So um. Call me! If you ever need my help! Or Mr. Whiskers! But don’t call him. He doesn’t have a phone. Because he’s a cat. But I have a phone. So you can call me!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes. Alright. Will do.”

“Oh. And Seb says he owes you one.”

“Seb?”

“For getting Mr. Whiskers for him! Just brilliant!”

I shuddered again. “Ok. Sounds good.”

“Talk soon!”

“Yup. You bet. Bye.” I hung up the phone before Kevin could say anything else.

The man just looked at me. Look is the wrong word, stared? Studied? Visually dissected? And I squirmed. He hummed slightly. “Interesting.” Then he tilted his head. The bodyguard stormed off the bus, and the man followed. Another suit collected the tea, and left silently.

Then our driver clambered back up onto the bus and smiled. “All set, so?”

I looked at Jam. “What the bloody fuck?”

Jam shrugged. “Who knows.”

“No I don’t,” Who snorted.

We all started laughing again.

~

Three hours later I flopped onto my couch with a sigh. “Give me a minute and I’ll get the linens. I’m sure the last train has already left.”

Jam dropped down next to me. “Fair enough. Thank gawd it’s Sunday tomorrow.”

“Mmn,” I fished my phone out of my pocket and flicked through the texts I’d received. “Ah, look. Sarah needs me in on Monday.” I tilted the screen towards Jam and she chuckled.

“Anything else of note?”

“Well,” I pulled up a picture message, “Kevin and Mr. Whiskers say hi.”

Jam burst out laughing. “You’re going to get daily updates aren’t you?”

“Gonna miss the tumblr and twitter messages from BBCThree though,” I pouted then giggled. “You know, a cat wishing me happy birthday is probably a career high for me.”

Jam gave me a shove. “Dolt.”

“Ugh, I’m still covered in cat fur. I should change.” I stood and started emptying the contents of my pockets on the table.

Jam scooped up the post-it encased USB. “What’s this?”

“Dunno.” I frowned. “I… just sorta took it.”

Jam unwrapped the post-it. “Madonna?”

I shrugged. “Here, I don’t use this laptop anyway. If it’s a virus, I’ll just burn the bloody computer. Back in a mo.”

Jam booted up the laptop and opened the drive while I went to change. “E…”

I came back into the sitting room, tugging a hoodie over my head. “Yeah?”

“E, you have GOT to see this.”

I leaned over her shoulder and looked at the screen. There were a series of pictures. Pictures and videos. All of them looked to be of Sherlock and John. “When was this?”

“Know any times they’ve gone out clubbing?” She opened one of the videos and rather glaring dance music came through the speakers with static and feedback. The video was hard to make out with the flashing lights. Jam chuckled. “Look at the disco ball!”

I furrowed my brow and shook my head. “Club doesn’t look familiar. Does that sign say ‘FIRE’ on it?”

“That’s ‘cause it’s all dudes,” Jam said frankly.

I blinked. “Holy shit!”

Jam closed the video and opened a picture from the bottom of the folder. “That the drunk tank? Aw look, John’s holding his hand while they’re sleeping.”

“Jam… Do you know what this is?”

She looked at me curiously, glanced back at the screen, then back at me. The realization dawning across her face spread with a wide grin. “Oh my God!”

We broke down laughing again.

~

Half-ten tea break on Monday was welcome, though I never drank tea when I was working. That was probably something I should fix. Too much caffeine really couldn’t be that good for me. Sarah passed by and opened a packet of biscuits, dumping them onto a plate and holding them out as she joined me at the small kitchenette table.

“Cheers,” I nicked one of the chocolate covered ones.

“Nice weekend?” she asked.

“Mmn,” I nodded. “Can’t complain.”

“Get up to anything fun?”

“Ah… I was just off a week of nights. So…” I shrugged.

“So nothing exciting?”

“Not at all.” I had to hide a small grin in my coffee mug.

John joined us, flopping into the empty chair with a groan and frown. Sarah nudged him with her elbow. “Happy Monday.”

He snorted and started breaking one of the biscuits into small pieces.

“E and I were just discussing our very exciting weekends,” Sarah smiled pleasantly. “Did you fare any better than we did?”

His brow creased, his nose twitched, but then he shook his head. “Not really.”

I grinned. “You haven’t… I don’t know… Taken up crafting? Maybe a bit of scrapbooking?”

He gave me a strange look. “No. Why?”

I tilted my head and ran a finger along the back of his collar. He pulled back sharply and glared as I held up my index finger. “Because this is the second time I’ve come in to see you caked in glitter.”

Sarah chuckled. “We’re going to need to hold an intervention.”

“It’s nothing,” John said gruffly.

“Really?” I raised a brow. “Last time I told you it looked like you’d fucked a pixie. This time,” I shrugged. “I haven’t seen that much glitter since the one night I went to Fire.”

John’s face turned an alarming shade of pink. “What?”

“Oh, yeah,” I waved a hand absently. “Gay club out by the arches. My friends dragged me there once. You been?”

“No.” He frowned, crossed his arms, uncrossed them, recrossed them, then decided to pick up his mug with both hands. “No. No, of course not.”

“Ah,” I said quietly. “It’s decent. You should go.”

He nearly choked on his tea.


End file.
